


Guinevere

by MinarSmile



Category: Kingsman (Movies), Kingsman (Movies) RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Eggsy & Roxy Bromance, Eggsy as Guinevere, Eggsy is a Little Shit, His Milkshake Brings All The Boys To The Yard, Lancelot Lives, Love at First Sight, M/M, Omega Eggsy, Pining, Roxy Is a Good Bro, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 12:42:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8533516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinarSmile/pseuds/MinarSmile
Summary: Basically,
where Eggsy is an omega that unknowingly attracts all the alphas.





	

“Alpha,”

Moist lips were slightly parted, a cherry red from gnawing, practically purring at the two pure blooded alphas in the room. His striking hazel eyes were dilated, unfocused. (though Merlin was adamant that those orbs were roving over his body the most)

The normally composed pair of Kingsman are reduced to blushing boys, near the delectable omega presented in front of them.

My god, Eggsy Unwin would be the death of Kingsman.

 

- 

 

They’ve always known that little Eggsy Unwin was an adorable lil’ shit. His roguish accent and dimpled grin were a trademark at the office, but his pale, bare legs and coy actions were what turned heads. (a bet with the boys had him completely hairless, much to their dismay)

Nobody resists a glance on a hot, summer day when the lad would pull out a popsicle and slowly devour it with the grace of a porn star, including the suggestive moans of ‘oh yes’. That would often leave them filing out of the room at rapid speed. Or when he decides to do yoga (he was learning it with his mum) at the headquarters, giving everyone an eyeful of thick thighs and a lush behind.

It didn’t help when his best mate, the infamous Roxy, went about buying him a box of obscenely short shorts and embroidered thigh high socks. He took to them immediately, adoring the soft textures and cool breeze. Similarly, the office also took to them, anticipating the mellow moods of the boy, when he would sway around in high socks and loose sweaters, usually in patterns of cats and sunshine. Or they would be on edge, on the days of an excitable Eggsy, barely dressed in lacy, bold shorts and tight shirts revealing his lithe form (years of gymnastics did pay off). Quite a shock for them all, seeing the boy converge from his ol’ tracksuit days, though the change was appreciated.

And mind you, this was before they found out Eggsy was an omega.

The cheeky fellow had always known of his secondary gender, but didn’t think it necessary to indulge the fact even when his identification stated him as a beta.

The Kingsman, an organization filled to the brim with aristocratic alphas, perhaps should’ve seen the signs. It explained, to some extent, why at the first training session locked up in a large room, a few of the candidates had a hard time not staring at the pretty boy. Those few being the most hot-blooded alphas. Or why the lad had such an easy time attracting all different types of people to his side, thus succeeding in all romantic rendezvous’ literally in his sleep (conked out on the bar table, it was a wonder that the target immediately came to give him a hand). After rightfully gaining a spot at the table by saving the world, he became Arthur’s (Harry Hart, at your service) favourite, and was dubbed as ‘Guinevere’ for a reason the knights don’t share (his beguiling charm and effortless beauty).

The day he admitted to being an omega, started out uneventfully. In fact, other than his admittance it was but a simple day without nefarious villains out to enslave humanity or corrupt politicians parading around town. It was a paperwork day, and Amelia, the kind soul she is, was entertaining the hyperactive Eggsy, talking about her relationship struggles. “Yes, that one was quite the typical egotistical alpha. Though rare as they are, they can be such a hassle,” Pacing down the hallway, and heading for the round table with government documents, the lad at her heels. “How bout you, Eggsy? I haven’t seen you talk about any special friends of yours. You have any omegas you fancy? Or a beta?”

The lad laughs, just as she’s opening the wide doors to the influential room full of world class spies. “I’d much rather an alpha. After all, I am an omega.”

The conversation at the round table fizzles out, turning to stare at the entrance, and at their fellow comrade who acts as if he hasn’t just said something monumental. At the head of that table, the always intelligent Arthur has strange look on his face, a bit determined, a lot astounded. “What?”

Eggsy stares back at the lot, green eyes wide and unperturbed, clueless to the new way the knights perceive him. The petite woman beside him is close to fainting, simultaneously excited and horrified, clutching the papers like a lifeline. “Ah, must’ve slipped my mind to mention that. Yeah, I’m an omega.”

Seeing no response, the cocky boy is left twiddling his fingers (that are no doubt soft), scraping his feet against the ground nervously, anxiously, with a look so open and vulnerable, a complete contrast from his usual abrasive self. “That’s alright. Right, sir?” Voice soft and head turned down, giving a peek of his bare neck, the alphas can barely keep from cooing.

Immediately, the knights are full of reassuring words and faux nonchalance, making Eggsy’s dimpled grin appear. It’s all right now. They say. Except its not; no, it’s much worse.

Eggsy having stated his dynamic, feels assured enough to hold off on suppressants, unbeknownst to the domino effect that will have on the entire office. (Save for witty Lancelot, who does not feel attraction to the majority of dynamics, despite being a full bred alpha)

All of Eggsy’s little quirks and stunts lead to today; the day his heat begins.

 

-

 

 

Harry paces down the long halls, amiably greeting the subordinates he passes, as a good boss would. He is the newly appointed Arthur after all, and he is determined to do an impeccable job. Even his suit reflects his properness; a custom made, classic black suit with his favourite pair of polished Oxford’s, topped with a pair of fashionable dark rimmed glasses.

His old time partner and close friend, the ever intelligent and passive-aggressive Merlin stands at the end of the hallway, waving briefly. “Harry. Just the man I wanted to see.”

“Merlin. I do hope I’m not in trouble already.”

“wouldn’t be surprised.” His Scottish accent is thick, a bit jovial. “This is about the new batch of missions we’ve received, the lot of them fit for the Yard. Except one.”

“Hm. Well we have a full round table so you can choose who you see fit.” The imposing men stride through the office. Alphas thorough-bred were rare, and the presence of two highly trained agents was intimidating. So much so that a few missions would end in surrender, the enemies physically cowering at the difference.

“I have someone in mind. They’re waiting in the lounge.” Merlin appears a bit regretful for his next sentence. “You’re not going to like this Harry, but I chose him because he’s not an alpha.”

As they near the brown doors, Harry scents a distant sweet smell, but brushes it off as a kitchen confectionary, instead giving the bald man a sharp look, ready to reprimand. His friend sighs, opening the doors and stepping in.

They see _him,_ but very flushed and slightly more appealing than usual. And the smell, the smell hits their noses and gives them a good whiff of pure ecstasy.

“Alpha,”

Moist lips are slightly parted, a cherry red from gnawing, practically purring at the two pure blooded alphas in the room. His striking hazel eyes are dilated, unfocused. (though Merlin was adamant that those orbs were roving over his body the most)

The normally composed pair of Kingsman are reduced to blushing boys, near the delectable omega presented in front of them.

_So perfect for mating ...…. omega…... Mine_

“please sirs,” He cries pitifully, smooth, plump thighs parting slowly. “it’s so hot.”

Harry clears his throat, red down to his black tie. A true gentleman never takes advantage of an omega in heat. But this image is testing his experienced limits; a picture only ever found in his fantasies. Beside him, even the calm and collected Merlin is shaken, hands clenched unbearably and teeth bared. The smell of arousal is tangible in the air, and the irresistible scent of saccharine honey and smoky embers is pungent.

His white blouse slips down his shoulder, revealing plush skin, that would most likely be soft to the touch. The picture of erotic, with his mussed up chestnut locks and rosy, pink face. His small tongue darts out of his kissable lips, obscenely, as his breath hitches and stutters.

The suited men stiffen, struck between fleeing the premises or protecting, claiming, their property. Their heightened senses picking up the flurry of movements outside of double doors not enough to barricade the scent of an aroused omega. The mere thought of other alphas stumbling upon the ravishing sight makes them go into a possessive frenzy.

Drinking in the dazed, beautiful look on the muscled omega (a large leap from the stereotypical tiny fellows) and the slivers of skin that peek out of scantily clad clothing, the rest of his professional attire tossed on the ground, leaving only a thin shirt and tight pants. Oh, and how sinfully his black trousers strain against his plush bottom.

“Harry,” The boy cries, moaning pitifully, eyes wet and vibrantly green. It seems like there is a victor, before Eggsy whispers once more, “Merlin.”

At that moment the pair of alphas have decided upon a compromise. As much as Harry hates to share and Merlin’s monogamous soul, they’d rather the other than anyone else. Yes, the very thought of those filthy alphas (Percival and his great sense of style or that Charlie always fawning over the boy) touching what is their own makes blood boil.

Coincidentally, the door clicks behind them, meaning an unwanted entry, and in comes an unsuspecting tall broad. Charlie (speak of the devil) looks shell shocked at the two growling alphas, a rather feral, domineering look in their narrowed eyes, and even more so his eyes follow the sensual figure of a lovely omega whimpering on a cot.

“oh my god, Eggsy.” He can’t hide his keen interest, his own alpha senses coming alight. Which is enough for the daring Harry Hart to roar at the younger male, canines bared, poised to fight for his claim. It’s the stuff of legends, alphas dueling to the death for the hand of a worthy mate.

The brash younger alpha is foolish and attempts the first move, eager to win the affection of the apple of his eye, only to get roughly thrown to the ground by an enraged Arthur. Close behind is a severely threatening figure of Merlin, who makes no move but has the stance of defense over the omega, whose delicious scent is only getting stronger. Eggsy whines uncontrollably, reaching for the man closest to him, which happens to be the passive Merlin (that lucky bloke), tugging at the hem of their sweater. The bald man sees white as the boy calls out his name, desperately.

And before everything goes to bloody hell, in comes Lancelot, alerted by the strange scent that had the other agents woozy, as if they were drunk. A resolute look on her face.

“Step back alphas. I will tase you.” Roxy holds the weapon pointedly, with every intention to use it. At their reluctance, she snarls menacingly. Surprisingly the wisest of the bunch is also the fool, as the blue eyed fellow backs up, inching toward the door while nursing his bruised side. Harry is a bit stubborn, choosing to bare sharp teeth. She snaps, and her boss is left writhing on the ground, swearing like a sailor. Taking heed, the bald man slowly steps away from the beauty who cries at the loss of alpha.

“Alright, Eggsy. Let’s go.” Roxy easily lifts the boy in her arms, who sniffles onto her tailored suit, at ease. And then she carries the boy out of the headquarters, ignoring the wide eyed looks of all the agents and workers, all stunned. After some time, in the distance, they hear the sound of a car starting and zooming away. No doubt it was Arthur’s car parked outside.

 

 

The absence of sweet Eggsy brings clear-headedness and a tad bit of resentment. The bald agent rubs his head, still feeling very much intoxicated, the image of lovely Eggsy seared in his head. At least his senses are returning, as dimmed as they are. Merlin eyes his enraged friend, dealing with the after effects of an electrical charge. The typically benevolent Harry Hart sits up, wincing at the pain jolting in his body.

His dark brown eyes are clear, and his face unreadable. He brings up his glasses, nonchalantly. “Well.”

Merlin nods, smoothing down his clothes. “Well indeed. I did not expect this.”

The crowd of workers at the door are struck between chortling at the humorous turn of events or weeping, because yes, they missed the attractive boy in heat. Beside, the Hesketh boy is calling out assault, only to whimper quietly when Arthur gives a deep rumble.

The boss stands and looks at his subordinates, which has them all scrambling away in haste. The room still smells heavenly, and the pair of Kingsman scent it in longingly, before returning to duty.

 

-

 

Eggsy returns after precisely a week, glowing and very vibrant.

When questioned by understanding betas (for of course the alphas are simply dismayed and flustered; especially a couple few), the boy blushes to the tips of his ears, making them all intrigued. Even Roxy, his best mate and self proclaimed guardian, is befuddled.

“Wait, eggs. Weren’t you spending your heat alone at the safe house?” She’s in the midst of other spies who all listen in. The young woman has been unable to greet her boss properly for a while now, simply because she becomes protective and him on edge. Perhaps tasing your boss isn’t the most gentlemanly thing to do. Or stealing his car. Which she did not return until late yesterday. “I didn’t think the tomato soup was _that_ good.”

The fellow looks sheepish, and her hackles instantly raise. He looks rather, love struck. Which isn’t possible if he didn’t come across anyone during the week.

‘I… met someone.” He admits, smiling softly, emerald eyes alight. At the desks, a series of Kingsman simultaneously spurt out their ornate cups of tea. For one, Gawain is murmuring quickly into his headpiece, of codename Guinevere and a prince.

Lancelot is stunned, but not enough to stop her from uttering, “Who?”

“um, well he’s very kind and quite the sweetheart,” Eggsy bites his plush lips, then adds. “And he has nice eyes.”

Seeing the lack of response, he steps closer, slightly apologetic. “Sorry, Roxy. I know you told me to stay in the house, but it was yesterday when I felt pretty much fine, so I took a walk at the old park, yeah? There, I stumbled upon him.”

She is close to fainting, gripping her holster tightly. Roxy has yet to do a thorough background check on this mysterious fellow, like she has a habit of doing. She has a lot of spare time in her hands. Michelle will be reflexively irate at the news, her being the most defensive of her child. Not to mention the reactions of his suitors, who will be severely disheartened (poor boss man; first he is tased and then the most beautiful is swept off his feet).

He clasps his hands together and melts into a fond look (the knights fight the urge to take a picture). “It was love at first sight.”

That’s it. Roxy mimics fainting, wishing she could, if not for her above average healthy disposition that rivals an olympist. Instead she chooses to dramatically slump over a chair, generously pulled up by a beta, groaning inwardly. She is his friend, so she won’t discourage his happiness. But she can still gloat.

“His name?” She tries weakly. And the agent is not alone in her agony, the other subordinates in similar states of pale and hallowed.

“James.” He almost squeals, as excited as he is.

Eggsy prattles on, oblivious to the sound of hearts breaking, “I do hope you can meet him soon. I know we just met but we already decided upon a,” He turns an alluring shade of rose. “Date, I suppose. I’ll introduce him to everyone as soon as possible. I promise.”

The boy grins adorably, all dimples and pearly white teeth. And no one dares to call out a soft ‘objection’.

By the time the news reaches the ears of the one and only, Harry Hart, most of the office has already had long drinks of ale as compensation. Following suite, he rubs his head and takes a good swig of whiskey with his somber friend Merlin and the rest of the knights at the round table, dower expressions on their faces. They mourn the loss of their Guinevere, drinking the beverage usually used in passing.

“Here to, our Guinevere. Who has found his prince.” Bors’ states, dabbing at his eyes. They grunt in response.

“Of course. If, or as soon, as it ends, I have dibs on the omega.” A cheeky knight calls (none other than Charlie, a real pain in the ass. It’s a wonder he passed the qualifications), which has them all shouting and arguable. Harry Hart’s eyes are blank, staring at the scene of infighting. Yes. He is slowly, coming to terms with reality, as unfortunate as it is.

There’s a knock at the door, and the familiar voice rings through. “Sirs?”

All the knights halt movement and sit down professionally, straightening their ties and hiding away the brandy. In comes the radiant boy (yes it’s fact that Unwin is getting brighter with every passing moment, due to his new partner in crime). “I got you all some tea, if you don’t mind.”

Ah. Eggsy really is an angel isn’t he, the Kingsman ponder, gazing at him warmly as guilt settles in their hearts. Though Percival breaks the quaint moment by admitting he prefers coffee, leading to a room full of yapping men, quarrelling about tradition and kings. Eggsy hums lightly, eyes crinkling into a smile, and yet again, they cannot look away.

 

-

 

 

Finally, it happens after entire months (that were agonizing for Lancelot) of a vivacious boy who grinned more each and every day (for that reason alone the mysterious man wasn’t entirely ostracized), and also was found tapping away on his phone eagerly on many occasions, like a maiden in love (wait don’t say that, Merlin’s cup is shaking).

Eggsy first introduces this ‘James’ to his cold hearted mother, who is not swayed easily. So it comes as a surprise to the agitated Roxy when she calls, gushing about the dashing fellow who knows all different kinds of recipes and comically entertained Daisy with tricks and riddles. “A perfect father, and potential husband as well,” Michelle admitted, singing his praises after being impressed by ‘James’.

Next comes his best mates, Ryan and Jamal, who are admittedly a bit more suspicious with men strolling around in old parks. But even them, give her a holler, spindling stories of dapper man who can chug quite a few ales and still give a solid punch. “He’s bloody awesome!” They boast in a video message.

After that is supposed to be Roxy herself, but she can’t take the dreaded anticipation, so delays it for several meetings with her therapist and military strategy coach. They are to meet at a café, and the Kingsman arrives thirty minutes earlier to plan her actions. She guessed that he would be a bit older, perhaps a sturdy, boisterous man. Eggsy hasn’t been with much partners, but they tend to be aged (like fine wine he says) and with quick tongues. Typical brash alphas or egotistical betas. So this is a surprise.

From the moment Roxy hears the tinkle of her best friend’s laughter, she is left stunned at the powerful aroma that drifts through the room. It’s of strong alpha. Others wouldn’t be able to smell it, because it’s a challenge of dominance left loose for other alphas. She grits her teeth, hard.

“Roxy!” Eggsy calls, running towards her and giving a large embrace. He looks brighter than ever, and just as beautiful as yesterday. Behind him is a tall, thickly built man with a dapper suit on, golden brown locks pulled back. He looks young, but he does seem aged as they come. He smiles like a gentleman, all sterling blue eyes and bright teeth. It’s him, the one releasing incredible bouts of dominance. But he doesn’t act like it, meaning she cannot simply attack him (not that she, a civilized agent, ever would).

“James, this is Roxy, my best friend. Roxy, this is James,” The fellow grins roguishly, nodding, a gentle grip on Eggsy’s waist who blushes prettily. “My, mate.”

She returns the look with a shark-like grin and a hard handshake. Surprisingly he doesn’t grip her hand harder in an act of supremacy, but is light and easy going. One can tell many things from a person’s handshake. And everything is pointing towards a good-natured alpha, which is the complete opposite of his authoritative pheromones. They take a seat at the booth, Roxy sitting intimidatingly in front of the couple, who coo at each other lightly.

“so, Jamie. Can I call you that?” Roxy starts. No playing the nice guy. Even if the younger boy is shooting her a glare. The man referred to is all smiles, the picture of collected (which is a nice contrast to Eggsy’s impulsiveness, she’ll admit). “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m currently working as a freelance bodyguard.”

That explains the muscles. She bites back a comment on how dangerous that is, considering Eggsy and her are secret spies primed for missions unavailable to the public. “Oh really. And how old are you?”

He laughs lightly, clutching soft hands, “About 32 summers, give or take. And please take.”

Nothing seems amiss in the picture of a well rounded gentleman. Roxy bristles, a flurry of invasive questions teetering off the edge of her tongue. But stops when she meets eyes with a man across the street, dressed in all black. It’s the middle of summer. She can hear Eggsy say something, so she turns to look at her friend, confusion etched on her face.

When the window explodes in something short of a million pieces of sharp glass, eliciting screams and the Kingsman immediately dropping to her knees. Roxy bites back a curse. Is it just her, or does misfortune follow agents at their every steps. She doesn’t have her gun. Only the standard razor edged shoes and a fountain pen.

She surveys the setting, of a dishevelled café full of huddled and frightened customers, with a similar state outside with people running and the black clothed man holding up a gun and cackling manically. Eggsy, the clever boy he is, is directing people out though the back doors, making glances at the perpetrator. Roxy knows that look. It’s the face he makes when he is going to do something reckless.

And much to her horror, there he goes, flying out of the window and engaging in combat. This is no regular bomber. They match the experienced movements of a highly trained international spy. Roxy turns her watch, whispering to it in haste while tending to the wounded near the windows. “we have a terrorist here at Mayfield. Requesting emergency aid and police.”

“Lancelot! Calm down.” It’s Merlin’s soothing voice that grounds her distress. “Show me what you see.”

She grabs glasses out of her beige purse and throws them on, wincing when Merlin starts swearing. Despite being Kingsman, they both know the feeling of panic they get when watching the precious omega fight. “Bloody hell. If I’m not mistaken, that is the rogue lieutenant that we got a report on a week ago.”

“He’s highly trained and lethal. Be careful.” Roxy tries to yell warnings, as Eggsy fights off clean movements that rival his sporadic ones. The man is smiling, a devious grin, as if enjoying the fight. She’s moving away a bleeding child, when a resounding kick sounds against the boy’s lithe frame, making him crumple to the ground in pain. Roxy pales, finally remembers about the black gun he holds; but instead of shooting, the militant brings the omega up and scents him.

Merlin makes a pained noise. “And. He has a soft spot for omegas.”

Roxy feels the pure rage build up, seeing absolute red.

“I think I’ll take this one home.” The man shouts, laughing at ringing sirens, and with a push of a button, has the building beside on fire. Eggsy squirms in the tight grasp, whimpering at the cold barrel pressed against his head. “As long as he’s good.”

She’s poised to attack, but the hulking figure of another blocks her vision. They smell positively irate. The heady, strong scent of James is replaced by a bone chilling one. Like blood and vengeance. Where was he anyways? Then she notices the rifle in his hands. Oh.

“I’m afraid that omega is mine.” He states, a biting smile on his face that screams danger. Roxy hasn’t been scared of alpha in a long time, not since she presented at a young age.

“Oh? If it isn’t- “And before the perpetrator can start on his sinister plan, there is a bullet through his head, and he falls to the ground. Roxy shivers. She swears she didn’t see his hand move. The pretty boy is released from the hold, running to his mate and hiding his face in the crook of their neck, sniffling softly. Eggsy quivers, repulsed by the touch of an unwanted alpha. Their face is impassive as they shoot the man exactly four more times in the chest, as if disabling an internal bomb.

Roxy is shell shocked. His remorseful actions remind them of the type of things only Kingsman would do. Practised and jaded Kingsman. 

James turns around, blue eye mechanically tracing the surroundings for danger, then grinning at the sight of nothing. (other than the burning building, that the newly arrived firefighters were dealing with) Paramedics rushed through the scene, taking in people, and creating a rush of white in the back ground.

He stares straight at Roxy. In the distance, there is a gasp.

“Lancelot?”

Merlin asks. But this time, its not directed at her.

 

-

 

Roxy asks and asks, and finally the bald agent gives.

“He looks quite a bit like your predecessor.” Merlin admits, “Who died.”

It sounds awfully like he’s reminding himself.

She’s stuck in a loop of questions. This fellow certainly has the skill set of a Kingsman. Whose to say he wasn’t one, once upon a time? Her brows furrow. Yes, she certainly has many things to discuss with James.

 

-

 

No doubt the experience was harrowing for the young omega; despite the difficult missions he has faced, from betraying kings to child slavery. Never has Arthur or Merlin given the beautiful boy a task that was centered around his vulnerable dynamic. Never.

Eggsy sniffles, burrowing deeper into the well defined chest that is sprinkled with golden hair. After the ordeal, he’s come to realize the unbridled strength of his strong alpha, perfect for protecting him and their future pups. Adding to his witty charm and sweet, gentle ministrations in bed, or simply in his touches. He’s taken a break from the Kingsman, to instead recuperate inside the warm confines of James’ secluded, maroon apartment. It smells like home; a mix of pinewood and sweet honey.

Glossy green eyes peer upwards to find that his mate is awake, a mischievous smile on his face. Eggsy giggles lightly, feeling lightheaded in the sturdy arms that wrap across his waist. His pale legs brush against the other’s causing him to blush.

“Eggsy,” He rumbles, nosing at the boy’s dainty features.

The omega purrs, unable to contain his joy. “James.”

Eggsy bites at his lips. “I’m ready to talk about what happened.”

The alpha sits up on the bedframe, all ears, as the other falls into place in their lap. The boy had been mulling over how to bring up the subject for some time. Worried about their disappointment in his fight or surprise. His place in the Kingsman was not to be disclosed, ever. In fact, James believed he worked for the Yard, if anything.

“Sorry, I act without thinking a lot, “He whispers, eyes downcast, “When I took in the situation, my first thought was to fight. So I did just that.”

“Eggsy.” His tone is borderline reprimanding. “You were brilliant out there. But it did scare me quite a bit. I want to protect you, sweetheart.”

He smiles brightly at the affectionate nickname that makes him warm and the unexpected praise that has his heart singing. He grabs the older man’s calloused and larger hand, marvelling at the difference. Beyond that, warm blue eyes twinkle with adoration for the light skinned, freckled angel sprawled on his bed.

“You saved me, James.” The omega can’t help but coo. “You protected me well enough.”

He’s never had a partner like this once before. Soft on the outside, but all hard and chiselled on the inside (it was a pleasant surprise finding muscles under layered, flashy suits). A compact piece of dynamite. It reminds him of how his mother would describe Lee; a gentleman at day, and a soldier at night.

He starts as his gentleman picks him up with ease and sits him down, pressing light kisses down his forehead. Eggsy squeals, resting his arms around broad shoulders.

“You’re lovely, Eggsy.”

Now he isn’t an avid fan of meaningless compliments thrown at him on the daily, but hearing it from the honest older man has him turning strawberry red. It blurs his already hazy, one tracked man.

Eggsy gives them a peck on the nose (well, he meant the cheek but he missed). He can get used to this kind of lifestyle. Yes, a goodbye kiss everyday. Fantasizing, emerald eyes miss the wary look sent at his duffel bag on the ground, the imprint of an umbrella sticking out.

 

-

 

 

“Oh yeah, Arthur?” Amelia says, just remembering at the end of a brief staff meeting.

“Yes Amelia?” The agent does not look away from the documents on his screen, pictures and statistics flashing on his glasses.

“After a check on the weapons rooms, there was a missing black sniper rifle at the alley location on Mayfield.” She states, packing up her stuff slowly. The office can be dreadfully lonely without a certain light haired boy and snippy girl.

“Hm.” He grunts, “One of the agents must have forgot to put it back. I’ll remind them. Thank you.”

Harry suspects the actions of the newbies Lancelot and Galahad, who were the agents present at that location during that attack. Staring at a computer full of informative PowerPoints and at the lack of papers on the table, he sighs loudly, before tapping on his glasses.

“Merlin? Can you set up a call with Lancelot?”

The other agent simply hums in accordance. He hasn’t been the same for some time. Perhaps seeing the pretty omega forced to succumb to that disgusting alpha has given him chills. Harry himself refused to watch the playback, only hearing snippets of what happened from a despondent round table knight who came to work with apprehensive eyes and a low ponytail.

“Yes, Arthur?” Her voice sounds clear through the device. A bit on edge.

“There’s a sniper rifle missing from the 23rd weapon inventory on Mayfield. Did you take it?” He expects a simple answer, but receives something else entirely.

There is the sound of liquid spurting out (something like tea, most likely), that has him internally wincing.

“A black sniper yes?”

“Uh, well, yes.” He’s not sure what she’s getting at, but it has him suspicious.

“Then no I do not have it. But I do believe I know who does.”

She hangs up. On her boss. Before he can implore further. The nerve of this knight is absolutely immaculate. He’s frowning, taking in the strange call.

He can only hope that it is the forgetful, young Galahad that has misplaced it once again.

 

- 

 

After suiting up with brogues and glasses, Eggsy gives a chaste kiss to his mate at the exit. James grins, carding a hand through messy, golden brown locks. “Have a good day, darling.”

The pleasantry leaves him with a flushed face and a wildly beating heart, heading for his rightful place at the round table. It’s a good day, with a blue sky and lovely weather. Almost too perfect for his chaotic routines.

He hears the mewl of a kitten down a bright alley, and after glancing at the busy passerby’s pacing down the cobblestone streets, he slips in to follow the sound. Eggsy spots a black and white kitten huddled beside a trash can, meowing pitifully. He smiles, reaching forward at the suddenly startled cat.

It all goes black.

 

 

 

He wakes up to an unfamiliar place.

It’s dank and dark, save for the slivers of light found through small, high windows. It seems to be a warehouse of sorts, most likely abandoned. There isn’t anyone in sight. He’s tied up to a padded chair. He’s stuck between being scared as an omega, or confidant as a spy. He’s both; alert and cautious.

He’s only been in the agency for a few years now, perhaps a bit early for a vendetta against him. But it could be personal, or directed at the agency.

He hears faint footsteps, and voices speaking in a foreign language. Just his luck, it sounds somewhat Gaelic, the one European language that he boycotted entirely. He strains to listen in, swearing he hears something that dimly sounds of ‘lancing lot’.

 

-

 

 

James is stretching long muscles when he hears a sound just outside his door. Mail. Strange, considering they don’t hand it out on Sundays. His steps are quiet (maybe lethal), as he approaches, creaking the door open, to find no one in sight. He grabs the slim white envelops and shuts his door.

There’s no name or address on the black white surface. Getting a thin blade from his cabinet, he carefully opens it up. It’s a letter, handwritten, in Scottish Gaelic, one of the many languages he is proficient in.

After reading the contents, his blue eyes darken menacingly, a deadly aura seeping out of his tanned skin.

Nobody. _Nobody_ messes with his omega.

 

 

 

He swiftly obtains the number of Roxy after a message with the ever benevolent mates of his sweetheart. James is dialling while rummaging through the back of his closet, finding a crevice, and revealing row upon row of top grade rifles. He grabs two for both hands, his dual favourites, and shoves them in his bag.

Roxy picks up, with a meek, “Hello?”

“Hello. This is James.”

“James!” She gasps, “I have many things to discuss with you.”

“Save that for later, Eggsy’s been kidnapped.” He locates a few old lighters and shoves them in as well.

Roxy starts, distress seeping into her tone. “What, why? How? Is he okay?”

“Meet me at the Kingsman tailor shop.”

She breathes in heavily. “Alright I got it.”

James hangs up, lugging the supplies out to the street, where he waves over a cab and requests a quick trip. The beta cab driver cowers under his dark glare and clenched fists. He is definitely angry. Who wouldn’t be? If their beautiful mate was stolen away by their enemies. No matter how trained Eggsy might be (he recognizes those graceful movements taught by a familiar mentor) or he himself is, he is going to need a bit more than two people to make this rescue a flawless success. Which indubitably means, no survivors.

Upon reaching the familiar tailor shop, he throws a large bill, and heads in briskly, ignoring the narrowed glance of the employee. Instead he focuses on the suit cladded Roxy, who nods, and directs him to changing room one. Its been along time since he was last here. It’s almost nostalgic.

“James.” She states in the confined space. “Are you, or are you not, the former Lancelot.”

“I am.” He replies. And that is enough for her to grin slightly and press her hand to the mirror, only to have the room drop.

“what happened to Eggsy?” Roxy asks worriedly, the real question she wanted to inquire.

He hands her the letter, which was bruised by his tight, unyielding grip.

“This is Gaelic.” She says as they reach the bottom, both stepping out and heading for the bullet. “I can’t read Gaelic.”

He rolls his eyes. The state of these recruits were questionable. Without an answer, he pushes the button to have them speeding off. In the blink of an eye, they have arrived at the place that he had dreaded to return to for the longest time.

“Basically. He has been kidnapped by a group of Scottish hitman that have it out for me.” Smoothing out his beige suit, he steadies himself, before entering the agency.

They head for the round table, where the most proficient knights will be, ignoring the wide eyed looks of the employees who stare at the newcomer.

Roxy glowers at him, and this time he accepts it. It was evidently his fault that led to such a catastrophe. The group of hitmen hadn’t found him for four years. It was his misgiving for saving his mate in broad daylight, revealing his identity, and his weakness. James’ always been known to be reckless. That’s what killed him after all.

She does the honours, opening wide, brown doors, to spare the fellow. The knights all look the same, save for a few new faces, and the good riddance of that old fashioned Arthur. Instead at the head, is the face of his mentor and previous friend.

“Lancelot?” A small voice asks. This time its not directed at the girl.

“Hello men. I come with bad news.” His tone is chipper as can be. It smells like tea and shoe polish.

Harry’s face is unreadably dour. “You’re alive.”

“Yes, and my mate Eggsy has been kidnapped.”

“And you’re his mate.”

They all have questions ringing in their mind for the old knight. He was pronounced dead after all, killed by a certain assassin due to his foolishness. Merlin clears his throat, leaning against the wall with a stern look.

“Knights. Focus. Our Guinevere has been kidnapped.”

They all fright at the sound of that, fearing for the little omega.

Harry doesn’t take his gaze of the fellow, as he boldly states. “Guns out knights. This is a rescue.”

“And you too. James. I expect your utmost cooperation.”

He nods at the command.

 

-

 

Eggsy stares blankly at his captors. They appear Scottish, with bright red hair, though some blonde as well. They also appear very dangerous, heavy guns slung against their arms and chests rippling with sheer size. He doesn’t understand a word of what they’re saying.

But one does. Most likely the leader, who appraises him with a sour expression. They hiss something in Gaelic that has a subordinate running.

“You are the mate of lancing lot, yes?” He utters in a seamless accent. It seems like a rhetorical question, so he remains silent. Lancing lot? Lancelot? Then no, he would not be the mate of Roxy.

“You’re beautiful.” They say with a straight face, and it has him flinching. No, Eggsy doesn’t want to hear that from a strange, malevolent alpha. At least this one does not make any untoward advances, choosing to stare from a distance.

He can’t escape right now, even if he could undo the ropes, not with bulky soldiers standing over him. Perhaps, he could, bargain. But the mere thought, has him sick. He’d never betray his alpha.

It all feels increasingly hopeless. Resolute, he looks up, opening his mouth. “Do you really think I’m beautiful?”

Followed by (his attempt of) a coy look, which amazingly works, as the leader grins and steps closer, entirely aware of the situation. And before he can regret anything, there is the sound of an explosion nearby, and the Scottish are on high alert.

“Just a moment, kitten.” They tease, before yelling rough commands at the men, who ready their rifles. A few soldiers are running towards them, when they are swiftly cut down by dapper men in black. Eggsy holds back a grin. The Kingsman.

Then there are several men in black surrounding the Scottish hitmen, evenly matched in numbers. He sees the smirking Lancelot, a darkened Arthur, straight laced Percival; and, strangely enough, his own alpha, standing out among black in red in one of his colourful suits. Why is James here? And why does he have two massive guns?

But all Eggsy can do is hold his breathe, and struggle to cut the ropes at his hands to join his comrades, though the rope only seems to get tighter against his chest. He watches the calculated movements of the Kingsman against the tricks of an assassin. Perhaps he is biased, but it appears as if the knights are mowing down their opponents. Then the bullets come out, and he is stuck pulling his head down, in fear of an awry shot. Most of all, he can’t take his eyes off of his mate, such a powerful alpha that smells like dominance, and displays it as well in his one on one with the red haired leader. Eggsy can’t help but notice that he fights like one of them.

The leader takes out a knife, and Eggsy is yelling warnings at his unsuspecting sweetheart. He’s said it once, and he’ll say it again. His alpha is strong, and easily dodges the swift knife attack and returns it with a rapid bullet pressed against their chest. He wants to exclaim joy and run up into his mate’s arms. Behind him, a kind knight lets him free of the constricting bondage.

And Harry hart punches his alpha square in the jaw.

Eggsy gasps, dashing to his mate’s side with dainty brows pulled down and smile broken by a frown.

“You convinced us you were dead, James.” He accuses, full of bitterness, and Eggsy has a feeling he knows where the knights are coming from. He’s seen the skilled movements, and the load of bullets hidden all around his apartment. But most of all, he saw it in the way James stared at his necklace, and the matching one under his bed.

“I was dead.” He looks guilty, and it has the other gently reassuring with soft whispers. “I was tired of the entire business, the murder and the betrayal. My parents thought I was dead, Harry!”

“So, when I saw a chance, I took it and I ran away, fooled by the illusion of freedom.” James breathes out heavily. “But it wasn’t better. It was the same thing, only this time I was alone.”

It’s quiet. The majority of the knights have suffered a similar state of solitude, away from the real world and innocent people, so they understand better than anyone else. Eggsy thinks about his own sweet mother and little sister. He couldn’t live without them.

Harry steps forward, and they expect another punch, but instead he gives the chap a big hug. “It’s good to have you back, James.”

The knights share broad smiles at their comrade (though one is a grimace of jealousy), greeting the man in their own ways. Merlin even sheds a few tears after a quick chat (he vehemently disagrees with this statement). They also comfort the sweet omega, who is perfectly swell, with gentle ruffles of the hair and honest praises.

Harry scratches his neck in front of the young boy, concerned about the fact that he punched his mate. The boy only grins and gives him a large hug, vivid green eyes peeking under long, dark eyelashes. He cuts the embrace short, coughing lightly, and avoiding eye contact with his former student. Eggsy does the same for the majority of the knights, much to their embarrassment, save for an eager Charlie. “oh, come on Unwin.”

The alpha steps up to him, looking straight at him, and so he backs off. Eggsy pecks Lancelot’s cheek, entirely kind to his caring best friend. He whispers thanks, and it’s enough for her face to shine proudly.

As everyone starts to return back to headquarters, and employees flit into the warehouse to clean up the mess left behind, Eggsy and his mate follow suite by heading out into fresh air (ignoring the strew of bodies). Most likely, James recognizes the area, because he is strolling along the quaint roads with his omega following behind him. They don’t say anything.

James clears his throat.

“I wanted to die.”

The omega’s breath hitches, wanting nothing more than to hold their hand.

“Yes. I did. But then, I met an extraordinary omega.”

Eggsy doesn’t fight the urge, instead coming up into their warm embrace and waiting arms. He sobs inaudibly against their suit, creating a damp patch. He can feel a few wet droplets against his neck as well, which only has him cry louder.

“Alpha.” He hiccups and gasps, pointing a finger at their chest “You’re not allowed to die without my permission. Okay?”

It’s selfish and speaks volumes about his maturity, but Eggsy doesn’t care. He thinks he deserves a bit of pampering.

Jake is quiet, but firm. “I promise.”

 

-

 

The black car parked near the sobbing couple holds a somber group of agents.

“Hand me the tissue box, please.” It sounds like Gawain, but really it could be anyone of the invasive knights that are entirely protective over their Guinevere.

Yes, they convince themselves that it isn’t the concern they had for the runaway knight.

Merlin sniffles into his own, embroidered handkerchief, making a show of waving it in the air.

Lancelot groans at the utter uselessness of their intelligence broker, and throws a bunch of tissues at the alphas in the back.

“And Arthur says to forward him the recording.”

Of course he wants to hear it, just not publicly.

When the couple start to kiss, the knights either turn away or cringe immensely.

“wait. How long are we staying here?” Kay questions.

“Until they’re gone.” Someone, maybe Bors, replies. “We don’t want the wrath of Eggsy upon us.”

Seeing as how long the mated pair are hovering over this one location that paints a lovely picture with the bright summer sky in the background, it seems like they will be remaining here for quite some time.

 

-

 

 

Life changes with the appearance of Eggsy’s sweetheart (beloved, betrothed, alpha, whatever) slinking around the offices. He’s a trickster, a humorous fellow that enjoys drinking all the tea and not replacing it, or wearing the most yellow, pin striped suits he can find. Or they find out he is a bit sadistic, seeing as he relishes in leaving visible marks on his omega’s neck and wrists, and virtually anywhere else he is permitted (Charlie absolutely swears that he was one just above his hips when the young boy did a hazardous handstand).

Some, actually find joy in his presence. Like the new Lancelot who considers him to be her greatest rival and also a good teacher in marksmanship. And Merlin who grabs many chances for long, studious chats with the other man with exceptional opinions (he was the bald man’s choice, after all).

Others find him to be an incessant nuisance. Take Arthur, who cannot do anything seriously with the yellow suited man hanging off the ceiling chandeliers. Or Percival who’s only wish is for some peace and quiet. Or really anyone caught staring at Eggsy Unwin, who will be punished with light laughs and flirty touches not directed at them.

Eggsy, himself, doesn’t know if his mate is more of a distraction or a blessing. Most of the time stuck on his lap and stuck canoodling in the middle of the workplace. No doubt they are diverting him from long written out accounts of past events. But it makes him proud when he watches James hit dead center all times with his rifle, and pone the muscle head Charlie at an arm wrestle.

Twirling playfully, he falls into the arms of his darling, smiling sweetly. He’s barely dressed in again one of his boy shorts and plush sweaters that hang off his appealing shoulder bones. The omega wants to impress his mate. And he does just that, and much more.

Nowadays, you cannot find Eggsy without his infamous dimpled smiles. Or his dominant sweetheart standing beside him. Which is fearfully intimidating.

Their Guinevere is even more adorable and saccharinely sweet (how is this possible) in the company of his mate, a healthy glow of affection around him. They’ve seen the doe eyed, loving gaze he sends the alpha, or the ever so fond smile that graces his features. Its more bewitching than the innocent boy before, now with the slivers of pale skin marred with red claims and cherry red lips that are positively moist when they enter a room that was previously only occupied by two.

James kisses adoringly at the boy’s sweet dimples, causing him to laugh whole heartedly.

“James.” Eggsy whispers, bringing the taller man’s head closer to his soft lips. “My heat is coming in a week. Spend it with me?”

The words go straight down to his groin, and the alpha gulps at the other’s lusty look. Was it even a question?

“of course, sweetheart.”

It really was painfully embarrassing, among other things, the actions and words the pair would exchange when they believed no one was listening.

Except the only thing was that, someone was always watching. And in this case, Amelia and Merlin are left to faint alone, absolutely reeling in the abyss that is Eggsy Unwin.

 

 

 

Extra:

 

She has emerald eyes and dark brown pigtails, quite the cute little girl held in Eggsy’s arms.

He’s taken to keeping the princess at the agency, rather than any daycare. And the knights also enjoy time spent with the babbling child who munches on their ties and pulls at dark glasses.

The omega fusses over the child’s hair, who only giggles in response, while muscled arms wrap around his lithe, smaller frame.

“Sweetheart.” A kiss is pressed against his cheek, which has his lips pulling up, melting into the warm touch.

“Is it just me, or do you really want pups.”

Eggsy sighs, handing over the baby to a pleased Amelia, who had found a mate in a certain round faced knight (named Lamorak).

He gnaws on his lips, before pouting cutely.

“Yes, James. I do.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> what is out of character.
> 
> Starts off as something and ends as something else entirely. It's an experience.


End file.
